


There's a pink elephant in the cool pantry

by Eara



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, slight crack in the fourth wall, we need to get warm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eara/pseuds/Eara
Summary: And so it was, that, after not being in the same hemisphere for three months and then actively avoiding each other for the two weeks they had indeed been in the same one, Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson, brilliant detectives, found themselves irremediably locked in the oh-so-very-cold cool pantry of the Fisher estate. As a lucky bonus to the dire situation, they were both in their pajamas.(All thanks go to Mrs and Mr Collins of Melbourne, Australia)





	There's a pink elephant in the cool pantry

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is what happens when I like the prompts but I fail to get my muse to think they were her idea. In short, feeling betrayed, she fought me all the way _and_ refused to let me write two different fics for the two different prompts.

“Dottie, dear, this is a terrible idea.”

“Yes I know Hugh, but it’s the best one we have.”

“It is never, ever going to work. And I’ll get fired in the process.”

“I’ll get fired too probably. But it’s still our best chance.”

“But really Dot, the cool pantry?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Hugh Collins.”

**-o-**

And so it was, that, after not being in the same hemisphere for three months and then actively avoiding each other for the two weeks they had indeed been in the same one, Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson, brilliant detectives, found themselves irremediably locked in the oh-so-very-cold cool pantry of the Fisher estate. As a lucky bonus to the dire situation, they were both in their pajamas. 

(All thanks go to Mrs and Mr Collins of Melbourne, Australia)

**-o-**

She had looked at him in what could only be described as pure shock as she heard the door close behind her.

He, on the other hand, had been trying very hard not to focus on the colour of the camisole she was wearing under that robe. A task failed spectacularly. It was indigo.

Now, two hours later, they were still in the cellar, and they had yet to say a single thing to each other.

After several attempts to open the door, which had been very funny indeed, given that there was no knob and no lock, Phryne had, with all the grace she had managed to muster, sat down near a box of vegetables.

Jack, who had been the one to find the switch to the light bulb that dangled from the ceiling, after watching the unsuccessful attempts she had made on the door with a rather fond expression, had just taken up on leaning against a pile of boxes that were supposedly full of milk and butter.

**-o-**

He was not watching her lips. Absolutely not. Not on his life.  
But, for all his not watching, he could not avoid the fact that they were quickly becoming of the same color of her camisole. 

But what could he do, he wondered? As tempting as the image was, taking her into his arms probably would not be kindly taken given the current state of things.

The current state of things. And what a mess it was, he thought ruefully.

He had come to England, at the end. The ship voyage had been exhausting and annoying for the most part. The rest being just downright awful, with his sea-sickness and all. But he had so looked forward to seeing her that he had felt capable of enduring almost everything. It was perhaps a cheeky thought but it had been true nonetheless .

Of course now, in retrospective, he could admit that his time on the damn ship could have been better spent, after all. With activities such as finding a gentle way to tell her that he had not come to London with the main purpose of pursuing her (although in his heart of hearts, that had been just the one and only motive for his journey) but rather of catching a fugitive murderer who killed his victims and then stole their eyeballs (for unknown reasons).  
Yes, that could have been a good thing to think of.  
Instead, he had just stepped back and let Dot make all the explaining as to why they were all suddenly there, in England, for Christmas.

She had patiently listened to her companion and had put on a very pleased expression, but with her eyes she had quietly searched for his, trying to understand just what was going on, not with the murders and the Collinses but between them.  
He of course had very stupidly kept his gaze fixed on the ground, because he had been suddenly struck by how much of a disappointment she would think him, the boring Detective Inspector, too plain and uptight even to catch a ship without a pretext.

And she had brought them at her parents house and had behaved like the perfect host he knew her to be, just graciously ignoring him as much as possible. And who could blame her really, for not wanting to have anything to do with his coward self.

And then they had just miserably tried not to incur into each other’s presence as much as they could, while he spent his days at Scotland Yard updating the local detectives and filing all kinds of reports to send back to Melbourne and she...well he hadn’t really known what she was doing with her days. She hadn't shown much interest in his undoubtedly interesting case nor had tried to jump in the investigation. Maybe, he reflected sadly, she had better things to do with her time here in London, and she didn't feel the need to inveigle herself in a case for which nobody had asked her intervent. 

From the corner of his eye he saw her shift her position slightly, and bring her arms around herself in an attempt to gain some warmth. He caught her small glance at him, and quickly averted his eyes. 

**-o-**

Phryne Fisher was furious. Cold and furious. Furious with Dot, that had undoubtedly orchestrated this stupid situation. With Jack, who had been walking on eggshells around her since he had arrived, stupidly thinking that that would help. Help what? She wondered. She was not a porcelain doll, she could handle a little romantic disappointment, thank you very much. 

She had just to get rid of that ridiculous knot that had appeared in her stomach when his ship had docked. 

_Their_ ship, her mind supplied. He hadn't come alone after all. He hadn't come for her, either.  
She remembered how he had just stood there, hat in hand, while Dot told her all about the mysterious murderer and explained how both Hugh and Jack had been sent to continue their investigation in a joint operation with Scotland Yard.  
She had barely registered half of the conversation with her beloved companion, her mind stupidly focused on the one absurd fact that of all the times that Jack had to be sent away from Melbourne and of all the places the murderer could have turned up, it had to be in London, while she was there, waiting (no, not pining. Never pining.) for a totally different reunion.  
But of all the things, the one that had truly shaken her, was the fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Because she could stand a lot of things but not pity, not from him. Not for _this._

But it was simply childish to keep thinking about that. It was not the first time, after all, that she had been deemed to be too much trouble. The fact that this time a little part of her just wished to be a little less trouble, just a little, just for him, well, it was simply alarming. And not relevant. She surely wasn’t going to change her ways for anybody.

She brought her arms around herself in a gesture that was entirely intended to fight the cold and absolutely not, in any way, a comforting one.

She tried to ignore how, once again, he refused to hold her gaze.

**-o-**

All this waiting was absolutely nonsensical. Jack was getting paler by the minute and she was visibly shivering.

Suddenly, and a bit clumsily, she stood up. “Jack, we really need to get warm.”

He resisted the urge of rolling his eyes at her authoritative tone.

“Well, at the South Pole they _do_ recommend skin-to skin contact…” He said, with a lightness in his voice that brought back memories of all their usual teasing and flirting.

That was, until he registred her expression of shock and hurt in her eyes. She quickly recovered of course, shaking her head slightly and hugging herself even tighter.  
“Jack Robinson, I have known you to be many things, but never cruel.”  
As soon as she realised the thought had actually formed into words, she bit her tongue until she could taste blood.  
What a stupid, stupid thing to say. She tried to make light of t with a teasing smile that would bring them back to solid ground, but it was strained and she knew immediately he would see right through it. Damn him.

Jack, for his part, felt as if he was missing half of the conversation. Well, at least some thing hadn’t changed, he thought.

He just took one careful step towards her, measuring her reaction.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

She looked at him straight in the eye, finally, with all the defiance he knew her to possess, but with something else also, like if she was trying to guard herself from him, to steel herself from his inquisitive gaze. That, he realized, was very much unusual occurrence when they were talking to each other, and it stung. 

He understood that he had let her down, of course, but it wasn’t like she was the one desperately in love. There was a whole world out there, after all.

Since she hadn’t succeeded in brushing it off, she went for blunt honesty. That probably would shut him up.

“Well, now let’s not play coy, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the lovely pink elephant in the room.”  
She replied lightly, the beginnings of a laugh just behind the last word, but it was destined to be bitter, so she let it die. She was not that kind of woman.

“Phryne, I…”

“Now, now Jack. Don’t you worry, I’ll be right as rain in no time at all.”  
And that sounded as much as a dismissal as she wanted it to sound.

“You ridiculous woman. You absolutely ridiculous woman.” 

With two strides he closed the last distance that separated him from a blinking Phryne Fisher, disbelieving laughter in his voice. 

He took her head in both his hands, bringing their foreheads together.

“Jack”, she uttered, surprise and confusion in his voice. Her arms, having instinctively come up, stopped mid-air ad fell down at her sides again. She had been so sure...

“How could you think, even for a moment, that I...that I did not want you?” He wouldn’t say love, not now. Because he knew that she knew, and he had realized that that had never been in question. What she had doubted was his decision to embrace it, to embrace her, and everything she was. To want her, even when it was unbearable.

Her mind, quick and sharp, recovered very quickly with a joyous laughter that poured out of her and almost threatened to become a relieved sob, and then she stilled. Taking his hands in hers and away from her head, she moved to look at him the eye.

“You! You don’t get to call me ridiculous. You thought I didn’t want you either!” The stunned look she flashed at him almost blinded him. He looked away, but she cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“I do want you Jack” she said, and his eyes closed briefly, “Jack” she whispered, and they snapped open again “I do love you.”

She kissed his lips briefly, almost playfully, before dissolving in a happy laugh, to which he followed her almost immediately, stealing another light kiss.

“So much for being detectives…” He muttered, cradling her shivering form into his arms. It really was cold.

**-o-**

“See Hugh? Everything worked out just fine.”

“Yes Dottie. The case will be solved in no time now that we’ll be all working together.”

“I must say, I’m terribly glad we got this ‘extra scene’ between those two. Can you imagine going through the whole movie before they finally realised they indeed are in love with each other!”

“Oh God, Dot, you’re giving me terrible flashbacks of the last three seasons.”

“Imagine a whole movie with that amount of UST!”

“With the added angst!”

“And you dared to complain about the cool pantry…”

**Author's Note:**

> You brave reader who made it all this way down- don't worry, there'll be no further chapters.  
> Now I'll just go back to write total introspection and we'll all forget that I ever tried to write some kind of dialogue, oki?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you liked it (if you didn't, don't worry, I hate it too).


End file.
